Real Life Trek
by jwhennig
Summary: A crossover with 'real' life. People who know Star Trek as a TV series find themselves aboard a ship in the middle of a nebula. How will they handle it? Original characters, plus cameos.
1. Engineering

Real Life Trek

By jwhennig

We've all wondered it. And I decided to write it. What WOULD happen if we found ourselves in a fantastic universe full of starships, aliens and danger?

N.B. STAR TREK, and all related material are probably the property of people who can afford expensive lawyers. Please don't sue me, I have no money.

P.S. Re-uploaded with some minor changes.

**STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK**

When I woke from my nap, something definitely was afoot. Of course, I barely realized this as I had hit my head on something and promptly was out again. I clued in the second time I awoke with a headache as someone shook me by the shoulders. I tried to open my eyes but I felt nauseous. _Probably a concussion._ I thought.

"Hey are you awake?"

I thought I said, "I hit my head." They told me later I said something like "I thit eye dun."

I blacked out again.

I came to later with a light shining in my eyes. I couldn't see past it. "Too bright."

"He seems to be fine now," a deep and clinical voice said. The voice sounded not quite right. Almost like it had come from a really high quality speaker, but not a person. I opened my eyes all the way and regretted it. My eyes weren't used to the light yet. So I closed them again. I tend to do so when they hurt. I wear glasses most of the time, and feel like I'm blind without them. Thus, when they aren't on my face, I close my eyes. "I feel better now," I said. The nausea didn't seem to be wrenching my stomach anymore. "What happened?" I asked. I was at work when I had fallen asleep at my desk, hiding from my boss. IT support bored me so.

The voice responded, "You hit your head on a piece of machinery in engineering. You concussed and knocked yourself out. Two people carried you here."

"Engineering?"

I opened my eyes and promptly decided I was still asleep. I found myself sitting on a biobed in the starship _Voyager_'s sickbay, staring at the Emergency Medical Holographic program. "Robert Picardo?"

"Is that your name?" He asked me.

"Um... no. You're the doctor from _Voyager_. He was played by Robert Picardo. And this is a TV set."

"_Voyager?_ I'm an Emergency Holographic Doctor Mark I. Please vacate the bed, you're fine and I don't know if I will be receiving further injured personnel."

_Wow, my friends went all out for a prank. Where could I be? All the Star Trek sets were auctioned off and dismantled for that one auction. Vegas? I heard they had a ride or something out there._ "No seriously, what's going on, because I hate pranks and surprises."

"You had a concussion, I healed it. Please move. I need to reset the biobed." For a program, the EMH was pushy, and seemed quite focused on getting the bed back.

"Um... okay." I got off the biobed and took in my surroundings. Other than the EMH, I was alone and still had everything on me from work. Boots, jeans, t-shirt, collared shirt, hoodie, belt, knife, lighter, keys, wallet, cell phone. I checked my phone, it had power but no signal. Dammit. I always get signal, except for that basement bar my friends insist on frequenting.

"Don't forget this," the EMH said, handing me my hat. My plain, crappy, black baseball cap. No logo, just black. Made so poorly the plastic stitching poked through the not 100 cotton. "Yeah, thanks." I wandered to the door. Of course, it opened to a corridor beyond. _Wow._ Suddenly, this wasn't so funny anymore. This was crazy, or maybe a cool dream. I'd always suspected I had schizophrenia. I wandered down the corridor, taking in the sights. _Hey, black and grey wall, black and grey wall, ooh a door!_

"038 Engineering Access 16-2944" I said to the empty corridor. I continued walking. The corridor had to end somewhere, and the ruse would be up. It didn't end. It curved left and I kept seeing more doors. Mostly engineering labels. I eventually came to a much larger corridor with a long fence-like structure in the center of it. Again, metallic grey permeated the design. I started to feel very odd. It was the truth creeping up on me. I began to get the hint that this was no TV set. Uncertainty came back to me when I met my rescuers. They were sitting opposite each other in the corridor, bouncing a superball back and forth and all over the long hallway.

"Hey, look he's up!" One said. He was a kid, probably eighteen wearing sneakers and a t-shirt that read: "There are 10 types of people in the world, those that can read binary and those that can't." He was thin, thinner than even me and my nickname had been 'huge Joe' in high school for the irony. The kid was spry, too. He hopped up to grab the superball, moving his six foot frame speedily past me. The other man was clearly related. But instead of being rail thin, his black concert t-shirt covered a beer gut. A stubble ridden face framed by long black hair stared at me from behind thick glasses. These were clearly my kind of people. "So you're feeling better?"

"Yeah, the doc fixed me right up, then kicked me out. Where are we?"

"Star Trek."

"Yeah, got that part. Know any more?"

"Not really, except that none of the other doors seem to work and none of the technology works either." He grabbed the fence-thing and hauled himself up.

"So... no replicators?" I asked, trying to be funny and ironic. Like I said, the truth was creeping up to me, it wasn't there yet.

"Nope. And the computer doesn't respond to voice commands, either."

"You think we're actually on a starship, don't you?" Incredulous defined my expression.

"Think? I know. The doctor cinched it for me. Only voice command that works so far." He started walking after the other guy, and I followed. Like I had anything better to do. "Jim!" he called.

"Got it, sucker bounced all the way down to main engineering. Stop throwing it at corners, Phil," he replied while running back to us. I inquired to where they came from and they responded, surprising the hell out of me. We attended the same university but different schools in it. I was a history major, these two were science geeks. And we all had more than a passing interest in Star Trek. I identified myself. "My name's Joe. I'm a history major. And I always wanted to command a Sovereign."

"Jeez, who wouldn't." Jim was a fan of the new ship, too.

"Favorite was _Reliant_, though." I said. Getting sour looks from both. "What you didn't likeWrath of Khan?"

"First Contact was way better," Phil declared. He said it like a preacher speaks the Gospel. Yep, my kind of people. They explained they'd woken up before me, and seen me knock myself out. Not my finest hour, apparently. I'd gashed myself pretty badly and they took me down to sickbay to find anything to help. Phil had activated the EMH while attempting a feeble joke. I hadn't seen him activate, so the amazingness of what we were experiencing hadn't quite sunk it, though it would fast approach in the coming hours. We walked the corridors, and I noticed they'd been up and down them before. It was all old news to them.

"Okay, so I have three possible theories. One, I'm hallucinating. Two, practical joke. Three, we're actually in Star Trek. I've never met either of you before, so I don't think its one. Knowing my addled brain, my friends would be here instead of strangers." They shrugged and seemed to accept it. "Two, still a possibility, but its rather elaborate. And we can't prove three except for the fact the doctor appeared when you activated his program."

"I actually wasn't looking where he appeared when it happened," Phil said.

"So its still not proof. Some rich wierdo hires Robert Picardo or someone who looks like him and builds a set." They nodded. "I bet they didn't build two decks or jefferies tubes."

"We need to get off this deck." Jim declared. He declared a lot of things.

"Yep. To sickbay!"

"Wait, what?" Phil questioned me. I hate it when people question me. It either means they aren't thinking fast enough or weren't paying attention.

"First Contact, early in the film, on the redress of _Voyager's_ sickbay set. There was an access point to a Jeffries tube in sickbay."

"Oh, right!"

I sighed. I predicted I wouldn't like Phil. We headed for sickbay, where the doctor dutifully cleaned and organized sickbay. I found the access panel I remembered from the movie, it had a keypad on it with twelve buttons. They were labeled with seemingly random numbers between 100 and 999. I pressed a few, and the trekkie in me elated at the responding beeps.

"What are you doing?" the EMH asked. He fast approached.

"Trying to get into the Jefferies tubes. The turbolifts and other doors on this deck are sealed," Phil explained, trying to distract the EMH.

"I'm afraid I can't allow you to do that. After all, only certified engineers are supposed to go into the maintenance access ways," the program responded.

Frustrated with the panel, and the EMH, I spoke clearly and loudly, "Computer, deactivate the EMH program." Robert Picardo blinked away. _Wish I could do that to my boss, too. And that was impressive._

"Nice." Jim said.

"One more check for the 'actually in Star Trek' column," Phil said.

"Yep." The panel beeped at me again. I knew a lot of key sequences for Star Trek, but in the movie this one had already been open before it came on screen. I tried a different tactic. "Computer, respond."

It beeped its response beep. "Computer, why aren't voice commands working outside of sickbay?"

Majel Barrett-Roddenberry's voice responded, "Primary, secondary and tertiary systems offline throughout the ship. Emergency power online to vital areas only."

I stood and faced my compatriots. "Status of life support?" I asked.

"Functional across all decks."

"How do we restore functionality to turbolifts?" I really wanted off the deck, which I figured to be deck sixteen. Borg central in First Contact.

"Main power controls can be reconfigured from Main Engineering."

"Gentlemen, to main engineering."

We'd finally figured out that the ship we were on was indeed a Sovereign class ship, but strangely it had no name or registry number. Also, we couldn't communicate with anyone else on the ship, but the computer detected four hundred other life signs. I wondered to myself as we walked to engineering what exactly a life sign was and how sensors could tell what was alive and what wasn't. I pondered this when the corridor split into two. We headed right and with luck, we arrived at [01 Main Engineering 16-4873 in short order. _I wonder what the last four numbers are for?_ The door didn't open. I turned to my new friends, who stared blankly at me. "Anyone remember how to override the door?"

"I do," Jim said, moving past me and opening a panel about shoulder height to the right of the door. He hit two keys and turned and pulled a handle. The door split an inch and stopped. Phil, Jim and I worked together, pulling as hard as we could until the double doors split about a foot wide. Jim and I slipped in, but we had to pull in Phil. What I saw then was awesome. No Borg in this Engine Room. The massive machinery of faster than light drive spread out before us, and we were awed. "Dude, its really a warp core." Jim said. I thought he'd pee his pants.

"Okay, rule number one from now on. Don't touch anything unless you know what it is." I said.

"Right," they replied in unison.

"Got it. Split up and check the panels for labels. We should be able to find main power and activate it," Phil ordered in an excited manner. He practically skipped to the nearest console. I checked the two nearest the wall with the door, wondering if I should refer to walls as bulkheads and doors as hatches. The first said something about tertiary plumbing control and the other, well, like I said, I'm a historian, not an engineer. Jim interrupted my confusion when he started calling for help. I ran to the warp core and found him almost on the opposite side of it. He'd found someone. I walked over, and clear as day, was a friend of a friend of mine. His name was John and I knew him to be one of the smartest guys I ever knew. Some company out in California had offered him six figures two years out of high school. Big guy, too. And hard; he taught martial arts as a hobby. I walked around to near his head and knelt down. "Hey John."

He moaned a moan that meant, "Six more minutes, ma, I don't wanna go to school today."

"Come on, man, wake up." I didn't touch him. I try not to touch people who can kill me with their bare hands.

"No."

"Aww, but you're missing out on the fun."

He opened an eye. "You're not funny, Joe. Where are we?"

I imagine my smile was as wide as a 1950's Buick. "Star Trek."

"What?" He stood and took in his surroundings. And then he freaked out. Not like I expected him to, either. Excited didn't begin to describe his reaction. Now, John ranks as one of the smartest people I know and he can write assembly code from his head, but I never, ever thought he was a fan of Star Trek. He was too cool to be THAT stereotypical. But then again, he routinely surprised me with the width and depth of his knowledge of all things from geekdom. He bounced around for a minute, and started rattling off questions as we brought him up to speed. "Main power, huh?" he asked no one in particular. Already I could see the problem solver working. And like that, he and Jim were off to what looked like a big important console and they started babbling off very trek-ish techno babble. Some of which I understood. I shrugged and turned around. Behind me were some dark consoles, a few walls that were probably protective covers over important machinery/technology and a ladder. A ladder up to the next level of engineering. _Well that rules out the practical joke theory._ I climbed up the ladder, and peeked around. The layout of the next level duplicated the level below. A long space to a door opposite the warp core with stations surrounding the warp core. Machinery and consoles were tucked into every nook and cranny up here, however. Definitely the important parts. The ladder actually stopped here, and I pulled myself onto the deck. I walked around, peering at consoles that were dark or total gibberish to me. I didn't find anything that screamed "main power" anywhere. From below I heard the other guys arguing about things I didn't understand as I returned to my ladder. A glint of steel out of the corner of my eye surprised me as it suddenly flashed its existence. I panicked and fell back against a rail, saving me from either death or at best another concussion. The flash was just a ladder in the dimly lit corner. The ladder that I remember engineers crawling up in First Contact. I climbed up, and peered down a Jefferies tube. _Definitely not a prank._ The tube went on into the darkness until I couldn't see anything anymore. I climbed back down to the main level, to find my compatriots huddled over a console labeled "Main Power."

"Huh," I intoned and joined them. I still didn't understand what was going on, but they ended up looking at me for some reason. "What?"

"Should we engage main power or not?" John asked me. I think that was what he was saying earlier, but clearly I hadn't been listening well enough.

"Is there any danger?"

"I don't think so."

"Do it." I ordered, feeling pretty cool to be asked to make a decision.

John hit a button, and then dragged his fingers across three red lines. As he moved down the lines, they changed from red to purple and a graph labeled "power levels" began growing. "Main power is online, but only at fifty percent. I don't think it'd be a good idea to go from almost nothing to full power so fast." I nodded, not understanding why. I went with it anyway. "Computer?" I asked, to receive the polite beep of acknowledgement. "Engineering to bridge, please respond." I called.

"Bridge here," an unfamiliar voice replied.

"We have main power available, and life support is fully functional across all decks."

"Roger that, can you try to restore power to the shields and sensor systems?"

I looked at the other three. They gave me the expected "how the hell should we know?" look.

"We can try, Engineering out." I looked at my crew, "So... shields."

"I saw it this way, but it will probably take more than half power to run them," Phil said. I nodded and followed him to the station, which had been dark when I passed it previously. It was lit and displayed an image of a Sovereign class starship with bright waves of energy expanding from it, but they were all red. Bright letters in each corner flashed, "OFFLINE." I tentatively pressed a blue key in the corner of the display. The flashing words were replaced by a status console detailing over four thousand emitters, relays and power conduits all servicing the shield system. I only knew what they were because of the very convenient legend in a corner of the screen. I felt John behind me, and I asked without looking, "Which key you suppose activates them all?"

"The bright blue one." _Couldn't hurt._ I hit the key and the red lines turned yellow, then green and then bright white-blue.

Jim called from across the room, "I've got sensors online. Whoo, that's pretty."

We all ran over. Jim's console displayed the interior of a nebula and the lightshow of particles bouncing off of our shields.

I smiled. "Good work, guys."

"Bridge, Engineering. Shields and sensors online. Main power available at your discretion. But we don't really know what we're doing down here." Phil reported.

"Roger that, same here." The same voice replied. "Send someone up here. Bridge out."

I shrugged. "I'll go, you guys seem like you actually know what you're doing down here."

They nodded and turned back to the sensor screen, now oblivious to me. I turned to the main doors, which had shut with main power restored. I exited engineering to a much better lit corridor and realized I had no idea where I was going. I smiled, "Computer, how do I get to the main bridge?"

"Left to turbolift one, turbolift to the main bridge."

I followed the directions to the turbolift and its doors swooshed open at my approach. I entered and said, "Main Bridge." The doors closed and the life started humming.

_Definitely not a prank._


	2. Main Bridge

First off, I want to thank everyone for their kind reviews. It seems the biggest concern readers had was that it wasn't the actual Enterprise. Well, that's because Enterprise and all the continuity exist (at least through Nemesis) so Enterprise is actually running around. I picked a Sovereign over the Intrepid because despite the fact that we see more of Voyager, and have more information about it; Voyager ended up so modified, I wouldn't be able to achieve my goal of having a pristine starship. Plus, Voyager's technical continuity is pretty bad anyway. And to answer one fan's request, yes, yes I might use reviewer and submitted characters if they fit. But not just cause people ask.

**STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK**

The turbolift didn't move. Didn't budge. I realized that reality in any century could frustrate even the most patient of minds. I spoke to the comm panel. "Turbolift…" I searched for a number. "One to Engineering. Give me some power."

"Right, Joe." Another panel lit up to my right. The lift shuddered and began to move. Only it didn't move the way I thought it would. It went left. That surprised me, so when the lift arrived at the bridge a moment later, I'd seen no reason to actually stand up. I imagine I made a comical sight lying on the floor, hands behind my head. It wasn't as uncomfortable as you might think. And remember, I was still recovering from a concussion.

"Are you alright?" I heard a sweet voice say from the door. I craned my neck up to take a peak. I'd had a quick flash hope of a buxom beauty. I know, I'm a cad. Actually she was a fifteen year old girl with braces, freckles and glasses that looked like she'd picked them up in the 1950s. Disappointing.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just resting."

"Oooookaaaaayy," then she disappeared. I sighed, and stood up and left my comfortable turbolift. What I saw surprised me. When we see the bridge of a starship in a movie, it's clean, orderly and all crew members are in their appointed positions. This was a scene of chaos. It was downright crowded with geeks, nerds and other fans. I think one got caught at a convention because she was in full Klingon armor and bad face makeup. A rotund teenager sitting at the Ops station wore a Kirk-era gold shirt. Others poked at consoles, and others argued finer points of bridge design. _Totally useless_, I thought. I raised my voice and shouted, "Who's in charge here?"

A cacophony of voices, mostly from near the captain's chair responded. But one voice stood out amongst the others. A man, taller than most of the others, mostly because he stood straighter and held himself with more confidence, he looked me square in the eyes. "You are?"

"Larry Cartwright. Professor of archaeology and history." _Sweet._"Are you the one I spoke with about main power?"

"Yes."

"And are you the one that ordered me up here?"

"Yes."

"Why am I following your orders?" He looked at me hard; harder than anyone's ever stared at me. Larry clearly expected me to follow his orders, and he was used to that kind of response. He looked around at everyone on the bridge. The cacophony had silenced itself at my question. Those surrounding the Professor stared intently at him, waiting for a response. Probably so they could poke holes in his reasoning and decide that they themselves still had the best capability.

Cartwright definitely looked the part of a professor. Older, sixties probably, a white moustache and balding, but still possessing some of his white hair. He looked like my grandpa did thirty years ago. He wore classic tweed coat common to professors at my university. It's to make them look more distinguished, a quality they lack in most cases. As he stared at me, I supposed I looked indignant at first. I don't like being ordered around, but I'll do mostly anything you ask me. But… I gave in. I cleared it from my face and went back to my normal 'irreverent and questioning but non-confrontational' look.

"I hold a Commander's commission in the United States Naval Reserve. I've served on six ships, and commanded two of them." _Wow. How come I've never met this guy?_

"Good enough for me, Commander. How can Engineering help?" I smiled. I love resisting authority, but even more satisfying is getting them to fight when they don't need to.

"Report."

"Main power's online, my guys should be reactivating main systems now," I replied.

Some nerdy kid who actually had a pocket protector in his white shirt's pocket interrupted my report. "The board shows only twenty percent of systems restored. At this rate, it will take hours." I moved to the board and practically shoved the kid out of the way. I looked at what he had been doing. Now, remember, I'm not that smart, but I pick up computer systems quickly. The kid had been shutting off systems when he thought he had been selecting them. I started to berate him, "This isn't your new Vista laptop that your mommy bought you for school, idiot!" I continued in basically the same fashion for about a minute. When I finished, the kid had tears and I felt better.

The commander stood behind the kid. "So you're the chief engineer?"

"The chief what?"

"You certainly sound like Chief Engineer." He looked at the kid, "You, go do something that won't blow us up." I smiled at that. He gave me that stare again. I stopped smiling again.

"You, be nicer, this is the crew we're going to work with."

"Sorry, sir. Its been a little stressful." He turned and walked back to the captain's chair, ignoring me. I wondered why he hadn't made Captain grade. _Probably his sunny disposition. _I blinked a few times and turned back to the status board. I opened an intercom connection to Engineering and got to work trying to figure out what the ship's systems were doing and what they should be doing. John and I, working from both ends got everything running in a few hours of tedious trial and error. Once we'd gotten the hang of things, we started running the automated computer diagnostics. I tried to block it out, I really did, but I overheard a very loud, very annoying argument behind me. It consisted mostly of guys who were full of themselves trying to wrest command from Commander Cartwright. Arguments, name calling, everything except fists were flying back and forth across the bridge. I almost got hit by a padd at one point. When John and I finally had everything running the way we (and by we I mean he) wanted it, I turned back. Quite a coalition of losers had arrayed themselves against Larry. I stood and strolled up to another fence-thing. _Why are these all over the ship?_ I leaned on it, figuring it would look cool when I interjected into the conversation. Before I could tell the moron team that, they were in fact completely useless to what we should be doing, I got nudged from the side.

"Hi."

It was that girl again. She smiled an innocent smile up at me. "Hi, yourself," I said.

"So… what's your name?"

I looked down at her, from the corner of my eye. She was trying not to look at me. "Joe."

"I'm Carrie. Isn't this sooooo cool?"

"Them?" I said, nodding at the moron team.

"No not them. The ship! We're in Star Trek!" She squealed. Carrie bounced up and down with excitement. I chuckled a bit, amused at her excitement.

"We're somewhere alright, but this isn't a TV show. I imagine there's a whole universe fraught with peril out there and no idea…" I looked down at her, to complete my sentences with 'what we're doing!' But she looked like I was bursting her bubble. I put my hand on her shoulder, reminded of the times I've helped my nieces with their troubles in life. "We need to be careful, okay? It's going to be awe inspiring to be out here in space and we're going to encounter things that we could never have imagined. But we need to respect the ship and everything else we meet. If we take it seriously, we'll get to see and do all the amazing things that are out there." She beamed a smile bright as day at me. _When did I become so inspiring?_ Meanwhile, the League of Extraordinary Morons whined and moaned that an old man couldn't possibly be the best man to run the ship. And with that, all resemblance of maturity left me as I jumped into the fray, defending Picard as a great captain even though Sisko was my favorite. And wouldn't you know, it just made things worse. Until Commander Cartwright really put his foot down.

"QUIET!" he bellowed. That snapped me out it and back to reality, and it must have done the same for the LXM. "Look, we're in a potentially dire situation and unless anyone else here has any actual command experience, I'll be taking command of the ship. Once we're settled and we know what is actually going on, I'll be happy to step down in place of a better candidate. Until then, we need to take stock of who and what is on the ship, how much control we have over it, and determine its capabilities." The group of nerds surrounding the former naval officer were quiet and I was no exception. I looked at my feet for awhile, embarrassed that I'd let myself stop thinking straight. But it didn't look like Larry was going to hold our rampant immaturity against us.

"Now, we have a lot of work to get through. First we need to take a census of the ship. We need to know who is on board, and what skills they have. Then we need to gather those people in their department areas. Then those departments should decide who's best qualified to be the department head. So, does anyone have any suggestions how we accomplish these tasks?"

The League was quiet, until the fat kid in the gold uniform shirt spoke up. He'd been quiet through the whole argument. I felt a little sorry for him, dressed like he was, he looked like a caricature of a Star Trek fan. I imagine he wasn't too popular at school or work or whatever social group. His name was Preston, and he had a very good idea. He'd been sitting at the Ops console and managed to get the internal sensors online when John and I had restored their power. Preston knew where every living being was on the ship and could direct census takers there. He brought up his display on the main screen. I have to admit, after having only about an hour with the Ops console, Preston picked up a lot of useful knowledge. The graphics displayed two images of the ship. The first, a bow to stern cross section; the second was a top down perspective. Most of the little blue blips were clustered in the saucer section, but scattered amongst crew quarters. The engineering levels were pretty sparsely populated. No more than a handful of people per deck. Cartwright split the LXM into teams of two, armed with Padds and assigned a pair of decks. They scurried off, feeling important, leaving Preston, Carrie, the Commander and myself alone on the bridge.

"Chief, go back down to engineering and let them know what's going on," he ordered me.

"Commander, I'm no Chief Engineer."  
"Well, you're in charge of engineering, so you're the chief for now."  
"Oh, for cryin' out loud, I'm a historian, not a mechanic."

"For now, Joe." He gave me that look again, as if he were mentally telling me to accept my fate.

"Gah! C'mon, Carrie. We have to canvas Desk 18 and 19." I grabbed my padd and walked to the elevator. Carrie bounded in after me. After the doors closed, I look at Carrie and invited her to give the lift its commands. "Deck 18!" she said excitedly. _I miss having that kind of energy._

Elsewhere…

The great claw shaped craft of the IRW _Nederix_ slid through subspace, crossing the Romulan/Federation border unopposed. The new peace left the border patrolled, but not guarded. The ship passed many star systems on its weeks-long journey, finally arriving at its destination. Earth. The familiar sight of a Starfleet escort vessel arrived, announcing its presence in welcoming tones. The escort, a mere formality since the _Nederix_ dwarfed the human ship by many times, swung in front of the Romulan ship to being the short journey from the system's edge to Earth itself. The _Nederix_'s green hull reflected the light of the sun at this distance poorly, and like most Romulan ships, it gave off few emissions. To casual observers, the Starfleet escort ship might seem alone. But it wasn't. With a malevolent glare at his station, a Romulan centurion peered through targeting sensors at the Starfleet ship. He blamed everything that had ever happened in his life on the Federation. The Borg who destroyed his Uncle's colony world. The Vulcan infiltrators that sought unification with the despicable and cowardly Vulcans. And worst, the Dominion. Who'd killed his cousin Aritha. His only true love. He hated the humans, their Federation and especially Starfleet. Shinzon had promised victorious war, but nothing of the sort had happened. Starfleet prevented it. They couldn't prevent this. No one could. He, Centurion S'that, would take his revenge. His fingers flew to the disruptor controls and fired the weapons. In a flash of green light and shock, the USS Vigilant ceased to be. Its components floated away from one another, and its atmosphere burned in space.

A few survivors, safe in vacuum tight sections, fought to survive. They donned space suits, boarded damaged escape pods, or climbed into shuttles. A few of these souls witnessed the end of the _Nederix_ as well, when the six cloaked Klingon ships descended upon the traitorous warbird, and pummeled its unshielded hull with phasers, disrupters, photon torpedoes and quantum torpedoes. They burned the ship in space, melting its components to slag and evaporating all life aboard.

The Klingons rescued the Federation survivors, and mourned their Starfleet warrior brethren, then they prepared themselves for war.


	3. Interlude, Continued

Is that right? Has it been TWO YEARS? What have I been doing? Well I graduated college and joined the Navy. So, been busy. But this hasn't been that far from my thoughts.  
Thank you quite kindly for the reviews of chapter two. More to follow after this interlude.

_**STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK **_

The _Enterprise _felt oddly empty, these days. Despite a more than full crew complement, the ship had lost something. Picard couldn't quite put his finger on it. The officers and crew were the best Starfleet and a hundred worlds could offer. The ship was whole again after their encounter with Shinzon and his _Scimitar_ in the Bassen Rift. Commander Madden served the ship ably as First Officer, and the new medical staff included six new doctors to replace the massive talent gap Beverly left when she… That was it. _I miss them._ Will, Beverly, Deanna… Data. They were gone from home and wouldn't be returning. Data… forever. The others, for the better. Picard stood from his desk and took in his quarters. No longer the Spartan affair he'd kept early on in the previous _Enterprise_. His collection of artifacts, books and decorations seemed almost ostentatious. The captain realized he had no pictures on his walls. They were all stuff in binders and albums. Putting aside a stack of watch logs that required his signature, he set to work to find an appropriate picture.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a white flash. "Getting sentimental in your old age, Jean-Luc?"

Picard closed his eyes. _Again._

"Yes, Picard. Again. I told you the test never ends." The captain turned to the god like being sitting on his couch. Q wasn't wearing his customary Starfleet uniform. Instead he wore late Twentieth Century jeans and a shirt that blazed across it: _STAR TREK._ Where had he heard that before?

"Like it? I got it just recently. Twentieth Century America was so influential to your world, it is simply staggering. No world I know had such conceited, self-centered and yet successful people. Everywhere else they would be ganged up on and killed!"

"The Americans have always been a touch self important, Q. That's what made them, and when they influenced the world, such good explorers." Picard stopped himself from continuing. Q was baiting him into another pointless debate.

"I am not. I'm just here for a conversation with an old friend!" Q said, a hurt look on his face.

"Q. The test never ends?"

"Ah. Yes. Well it doesn't, mon capitan! It never ends and we will find new ways to test you. But you aren't the only one we can test." Picard sighed. Someone else had to endure Q as well. He felt pity for that poor soul.

"Not soul, Picard. Souls. A whole bunch of them. Put into a situation they have DREAMED about. We shall see if your humanity is as robust and good as you always claim. They won't have the Federation to back them up or clap them on the back and tell them they did a good job. They're out there, all alone."

"And you're telling me this why?"

"Because you're you and you'll probably run into them eventually. Or maybe because I'm not as bad as you always think."

"No, you're worse."

"Insult me all you want, barbarian. The Q Continuum is worried about humanity. So the test continues."

Picard stood, and walked slowly towards Q. He paced himself, counting on Q's human body to react properly. "You can test us all you want, but in the end you're afraid of what we can or will learn to do." Picard stood over Q, glaring.

"You still don't get it Picard." And with a flash, he was gone. Picard thought a moment, then spoke. "Picard to all department heads. Senior staff meeting in fifteen minutes." The computer recorded, processed and began relaying his request to all the relevant personnel in less than a second. Picard strode out the door. Someone was being tested by the Q and he was going to find them and help.


	4. Crew Quarters

Please review. This was rewritten about a thousand times in my head, twice on paper and twice on the computer. I'm shooting for : Doesn't suck.

_**STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK STAR TREK **_

"And my favorite episode is really "Who Mourns for Adonis?" but I don't like what they did when they remastered it. The old effects were better. More campy." Carrie droned on as she followed me. We'd taken stock of who was on Decks 18 & 19. Now we were working our way through crew quarters. People we met were confused, scared but most of the time living it up. Replicators were being used overtime to make all kinds of things. I fervently wished I had some earplugs for me or a muzzle for Carrie. She'd droned on about the Original Series for four hours now. I really wish I could tell her to shut up, but confrontation isn't something I've been good at, ever. Actually I haven't been good at most interaction. I was afraid I'd snap at her and really hurt her. She seemed too nice to be a high school teenager. So I made the noncommittal, "Uh huh. And?" just to keep the conversation I didn't want going while I tried to figure out where this last person had gotten themselves. Internal sensors said they were on this deck, in this section. But I couldn't find them. Carrie was no help. She'd just shrugged and said, "I dunno." I scratched my head again, and pulled off my stupid black hat. The plastic stitching was itching again. "I can't find this guy." I announced. Carrie looked at me with a strange look that said, "Why are you interrupting me?"

I moved down the corridor to the next section and looked around again. I'd been here. I knew it from the numbers on the doors. As I stood there, Padd and hat in hand, a teenager yipping behind me, a body fell out of the ceiling. He hit with a thud and sprang back to his feet. The dude was a marine. A US Marine. And he was HUGE. I'm 5'9". He was a head taller than me at least. And at least twice as wide with muscle. "Who are you?" he asked. I got the feeling he was used to getting answers. And quickly. "Well, boy?"

"J-Joe."

"Well J-Joe, you seen anyone else?" I nodded my head, a fear I couldn't shake gripping me. I never did figure out why I froze so badly in front of this guy. Sure he was huge, but so are lots of people. A voice sounded from the ceiling, saving me from responding. A woman poked her head out, her hair short and tight. Clearly another marine. "Hey, Waller. You fall?"

"I'm fine." Waller said. "Found a chucklehead, though. Well chucklehead, who else have you seen?"

"Lots of people, I'm taking a census of who's here." I said, gaining a little confidence. After all, couldn't be sheepish in front of the girl Marine. Who then dropped from the maintenance access Waller had fell from. She landed with a grace that wasn't graceful like a dancer. More like a cat or a martial artist. Lots of flowing, but definitely no dance involved. She nodded her head at me and motioned to my left. Where I hadn't noticed a third marine had snuck up on me and was no more than an inch away. "Oh jeez!" I yelled and reflexively recoiled away.

"So census boy, you want our information or what?" Waller asked me. I didn't like this part of my new job.

Later, Carrie and I returned to the bridge to find most of the League of Extraordinary Morons compiling their lists of people. I handed them my list and tried to find Professor Cartwright. Sure enough, he was in the captain's ready room. Which was mostly empty. Just a desk, chair and workstation. "Hey, boss."

He looked up from his work only momentarily. "Chief."

"I'm not old enough to be a chief."

"Sure you are. 25 right?"

"Looking at the census data, are you?"

"I am. And you're more adept at using the computer than you let on." He looked at me with that stare professors get when you ask them for more time on a deadline.

"So? I don't like them; I'm just good at it. Besides it was John who told me what to do. He's the genius." I was being truthful. John did most of the work from Engineering. Preston handled all the census data. I just walked around the ship with a teenager I didn't expect to be so annoying.

"I think there's more to you than you let on." He said. And I wondered where he was getting this psychobabble. I'd known him all of two minutes. I left my list with him and departed. The League of Extraordinary Morons lounged about the bridge like they owned the place. They seemed bored, though. I guess when you get down to it, starship controls are only cool if you can play with them. No one was willing to do something stupid like engage the warp drive, though. _There'll be time for that soon enough._ Carrie was there and smiled at me. She once again glued herself to my side and followed me into the turbolift. "Deck sixteen." The lift whirred to life and started its short journey. Carrie looked like she had something on her mind, but wasn't sure how to say it. Or she was afraid. Or not. I can't read people. Books, sure. Not people. "Do you like me?" she asked. "Buwhat?" I said. That's right. Buwhat. A new word meaning "I am totally and completely confused and/or unsure of what to say." It caught on with the crew in six hours. Carrie has a big mouth. "I'm a little old for you, kiddo," I said summoning every ounce of age a twenty five year old who looks sixteen can. "No, not like that. I mean do you hate me?" For the uninitiated, teenage girls are chronically unsure of themselves. "I mean we wandered the ship and you said like, three things to me."

"I..." I had no idea what to say. The blunt truth was that she annoyed the crap outta me for two solid hours. On the other hand, she was a sweet kid, and didn't deserve some jerk telling her that her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. I decided to be honest. "You did annoy me, Carrie. Two hours!" I really tried to inject some humor into my voice. "I'm not much of a people person, either, though. Can you forgive me for ignoring you?" _Yes, Joe. Blame yourself and everything will be fine._

"If you can forgive me for being annoying."

"Deal, little one."  
"Deal, old man."

And just like that I'd made a real friend. _Why do we always think it's so hard? All it takes is a little honesty helped along with a little humor._

"So," she began, "where are we going?"

"Sickbay."

"Why?" I didn't want to admit why.

"Because."

"No, really, why?" Not even to my new friend.

"Cause."

"You're not going to tell me until we get there."  
"I'm not going to tell you when we're there. Medical stuff is private, you know."

The lift stopped and opened. _Deck 10? What are we doing here?_ And then a lady in a Starfleet uniform squeezed into the lift. Now, there were only two of us in there, lots of room to be had by all. I know we're supposed be polite about this kind of thing, but she was simply _obese._ And its not something that makes me judge… okay it does. We all do it. Genetic disorders get pity, lazy people get scorn. We all do it, admit it. Especially those of us born skinny. She breathed heavily, like this was the first exercise she'd had in awhile.  
"Hi!" Carrie screeched, clearly nervous she'd say something else.

"Hello. I'm Joan. Nice to meet you." She reached a hand out, and I shook it. She was trembling.

"Are you alright, Joan?" I asked.

"I'm feeling a little under the weather, nothing you kids should worry 'bout. I'll just head to sickbay and have the doctor look at it."

I should have asked, "At what?" I didn't. Instead, I said, "What a coincidence, we're headed there ourselves."

"Fir what?" Joan asked.

"Oh, I'm not telling her," I said, indicating Carrie with a slight nod. "It's driving her batty."

Joan smiled, "You shouldn't be so mean."

"Maybe, but it is fun. Turbolift, resume." The lift closed and with near silence took us to our destination. Carrie and I helped Joan into sickbay. By now there were doctors and nurses and orderlies and EMTs and I think one guy introduced himself as a phelmobomist. Carrie later corrected me, he was a phlebotomist. He draws blood for a living. I avoided him, needles creep me out. The docs, watched over by a reactivated EMH, scanned Joan for what was wrong. And then she had a heart attack.

The doctors were still learning the super advanced equipment. The EMH moved like blur. It was already too late. Joan died in the 24th century. The EMH called it and clinically launched into an explanation of the ship's morgue and its functions.

Carrie was devastated. It's never easy watching someone die. I held my father as he passed about a year ago. I held Carrie by the arms and walked her out of sickbay. She, like a typical teenager, struggled away from my grip and half ran, half stumbled to the nearest bulkhead and sagged against it until she sat on the floor, bawling her eyes out. I wasn't sure what to do. Grief isn't something I have experience helping people through. It's not something I can fix or solve and I have no power against it. Kind of like death. Death, real death is so utterly inexorable and final it seems unfair. I've been brought up to believe in second chances, replays and extra lives. Superheroes and TV characters come back from the dead all the time. My dad won't, and now Carrie knew Joan wouldn't. It wasn't fair, she shouldn't have had to experience that. No one should. I sat next to her.

"Do you want me to talk about it?" She asked.

"No," I said. "Unless you want to." I put my arm around her and she wept for awhile. She actually fell asleep for a time. I guess I'd learned something about dealing with grief after all.


End file.
